


Draw Me Out

by Schupuff



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Fanart, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schupuff/pseuds/Schupuff
Summary: Hubert needs an old tattoo covered. Ferdinand is the best tattoo artist around.  Part of the Ferdibert Valentine's Flashbang.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 22
Kudos: 178
Collections: Ferdibert Gang Valentine Flashbang





	Draw Me Out

**Author's Note:**

> Words: Star [@AstralAtelier](http://twitter.com/AstralAtelier) and Schu [@schupuff](http://twitter.com/schupuff)  
> Art: Chrys [ @Chryseliss](http://twitter.com/chryseliss)

  
  
Hubert glowered at the storefront dead ahead of him, directly across the street from the corner he was currently brooding in, cigarette in hand. He could almost hear Ms. Hresvelg nagging in his ear, _You know those aren't healthy for you, Hubert. But if you're going to smoke at least don't do it around me._

Of course. He would do anything for his companion and would mold himself to suit whatever she needed him to be in order to achieve her goals. But even he had some things that he… enjoyed indulging in. One of those things happened to be smoking.

The other was getting tattoos.

His first one was a regrettable decision. Honestly, he was mostly talked into it by Caspar who insisted that Hubert should get some, ahem. "Sick ink, bro." He didn't know what to expect but eventually conceded and thought to himself, however naively, maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe Caspar knows what he's doing. So he went into Caspar's basement/tattoo studio, handed him a picture of a small vial of poison he ripped off of Pinterest, told him to put it on his wrist and left the man to it.

Now he stands in front of a tattoo shop two years later, finally at a point where the sight of the terrible thing repulses him to no end. It was time to get it covered by a professional.

He poured hours, days, _weeks_ into researching the best artists in the area, scoured every single Google and Yelp review to ensure that he was going to the highest quality shop. He liked this shop's art style the most; particularly the shop owner. He couldn't remember the artist's name, only their instagram handle. So he trudged inside after burning through his cigarette, handed the receptionist a screenshot of one of the owner's tattoos- a black stallion running across someone's back- and said:

"Good day. I would like to set up a consultation with Mister… _horseman_von_aegir_tats,_ if they are available."

The receptionist gave him a strange look but instructed him to take a seat. "You're in luck, the boss had a cancellation so he's free. I'll go get him for you."

Hubert shrugged off his leather jacket, the shop so warm it became too stifling to conceal his thin, wiry frame. He had on a black tank top, dark jeans that were definitely a size too small, and combat boots. He thought that most tattoo parlors had a grungy look to them, but this one looked like something out of a Pinterest moodboard for a home. The inside was modern, sleek and _bright,_ with cafe lights strung up on the ceiling that illuminated the dozens of framed tattoo designs that were mounted on the walls. It wasn't grungy, it was… pretty. He felt out of place here, and for a moment he wondered if his presence would cause the potted plants set up around him to wilt.

His mind went blank, however, when the shop owner stepped into the lobby and extended his hand to shake Hubert's. He watched the man's bright orange hair bounce behind his back with every step he took, scrutinized every detail in how his white long sleeved blouse clung to the contours of his waist, how his pants appeared similar to Hubert's minus having tears in them. The most shocking part of his appearance was how he did not have any visible tattoos; didn't all tattoo artists have tattoos? Not this weird man, apparently.

It took Hubert a moment to realize that he was being addressed until he heard the stranger speak up. "Hello? I said, I'm Ferdinand von Aegir. You are in need of a tattoo, yes? Come follow me, I would love to hear your ideas and make something beautiful for you."

Hubert gave a curt nod but did not take his hand. "I would be amenable to walking behind you without further assistance," he said, getting up to follow Ferdinand further inside. Ferdinand opened a door that led up a short stairway to his studio. It carried the same vibe as the rest of the shop; strings of tiny lanterns stretched across the ceiling and hung down around them. Dozens of paintings were all over the wall, including framed horses and other random assortments of objects; there was even a horseshoe hanging amidst all of the tattoo designs. He supposed this man didn't call himself "horseman_von_aegir_tats" without reason.

There were large windows that let in the afternoon sun, and perched on the window sill were sunflowers, fully in bloom and soaking up the the sunlight. Ferdinand's station was set up right by one of the windows. "Have a seat!" He cheered, gesturing to his tattoo chair. He took a seat on the small stool beside it. Hubert nodded and sat down.

"It's nice to meet you. I apologize for not even asking what your name was earlier, I tend to get excited when the opportunity comes to design a piece." Hubert swore that for a moment he could see a tint of pink dust Ferdinand's freckled cheeks, but the moment quickly vanished.

"Well," he began, "I have a preexisting tattoo. I had allowed a companion of mine to execute the process on me because he claimed he had experience. I had a lapse in judgment; a mistake I was certain not to repeat. That is why I have sought your services."

Hubert showed Ferdinand his wrist, which carried a tattoo of a small bottle of some sort. It looked like it was poked on by a very inexperienced, shaky hand. Ferdinand scanned it closely, gently flexing Hubert's wrist to get a better look at the shoddy craftsmanship. Hubert gulped.

Thankfully Ferdinand let go of his wrist before he needed to speak up and ask him to let go. He wasn't used to being touched by someone with such warm hands. "Yes, this doesn't look too difficult to cover up. It is small, plus it is simply black and grey. Those are the easiest to cover up, if you are alright with the tattoo having black in it. You look like the type who would enjoy black and grey pieces. Am I correct in my assumption?"

Hubert grinded his teeth. He was intrigued by how accurately Ferdinand was able to read him without even exchanging so much as a few sentences with each other; but on the other hand it irritated him to be seen through so easily. 

"That may be true." He huffed. "But I would not be entirely opposed to color should the design call for it. I have no reference to show you, I simply would like it covered with something else. I… lack artistic ability. So I will trust that you would have a better understanding than I."

Ferdinand rested his chin on his hand and spent a good minute thinking. Hubert could easily visualize the the cogs turning in the man's brain. Finally Ferdinand said, _"Aha!"_ and pulled his sketchbook off his desk. He immediately went to work scribbling and erasing for several minutes. He supposed he could have passed that time by talking to Ferdinand like a normal human being but Hubert never does anything like a normal person so he settled for simply watching Ferdinand work and mutter things to himself.

Ferdinand showed him the sketch when he was finished. It illustrated a snake coiled around a dagger, baring its fangs to strike at a black eagle with its wings outstretched. Behind both animals was a large cross. A human skull was impaled on the dagger that the snake was wrapped around. "How about something like this?" Ferdinand looked excited, yet a little bashful. "I apologize for getting a bit carried away, I know you said you were only interested in a cover up but I just kept wanting to build off the design and, well. Yeah. I can take all of it out and just keep the dagger if you-"

"There is no need." Hubert cut him off, his voice quieter. It almost sounded reverent as he stared at the sketch. How Ferdinand was able to add such an alarming amount of detail in such a short amount of time was beyond him. "It is… Sufficient."

_It is beyond compare._ He thought to himself, but did not dare let it be known that Hubert von Vestra was in love with a drawing- and someone else's incredible handiwork. He does not trifle with such feelings.

In that moment Ferdinand was difficult to read. "Oh, that is… good, I hope? This would take several sessions to complete if you wanted to keep everything in. If that is alright with you, then I can polish it up."

Hubert shrugged. "Yes, I suppose that would be adequate. But tell me, Ferdinand… does the design truly require flowers? And can we make the cross a little smaller? I haven't a clue how you expect that to fit on my arm without it completely wrapping and overlapping itself."

"Of course it needs flowers! The flowers make the piece look more cohesive and tell a story. They are red anenomies which symbolize death or the act of forsaken love. It ties in with the skull on the dagger and the Eagles and snake fighting, for only one will emerge from this battle victorious. You cannot simply take out the flowers!"

"You cannot be serious." Hubert snapped back. "I do not _do_ flowers. They serve no use to me."

"Well I think it would do well to add a more delicate touch to your piece!" Ferdinand insisted. "But fine then, how about I make them smaller? You would barely notice they are there. Trust me, once you see the final design you will be happy they are included. It will balance the piece out."

After spending the next several minutes bickering Hubert finally relented. He scheduled his appointment with Ferdinand and left, not before shaking Ferdinand's hand goodbye. "It was a pleasure working with you, Ferdinand. I look forward to seeing the finished piece."

"Of course, Hubert! It was a pleasure having you around. Thank you for trusting in me."

Hubert did not know how to respond to such a sincere gesture of affection so he declined to answer altogether. He quickly turned on his heels and walked out of the shop. He didn't want the man to notice the scarlet blush that was creeping on his face.  
  


* * *

  


* * *

  
  


"I am having a hard time believing this is our last session," Ferdinand said as he finished some shading on the dagger hilt. "How time flies." He smiled gently as he looked up from his work to Hubert.

He couldn’t help think about the moment they had met. Actually met. He’d seen him hovering outside his shop for days, staring expressionless as he smoked a cigarette. Ferdinand couldn’t tell if he was thinking about getting a tattoo or if the sidewalk was the only place anyone would let the man smoke. He’d always hoped he’d come in and the moment he finally did was like magic. That he knew Ferdinand’s work, that he was going to allow Ferdinand the freedom to create something beautiful and that he was eager to go from a mere cover up to an entire sleeve caught Ferdinand’s attention right away. He was quiet at first. Ferdinand recalled their first session being mostly in silence. He wasn’t sure if Hubert was just gruffly quiet or shy, but was pleased the more he started to open up.

Hubert only nodded. "I'm surprised you had an opening today."

Ferdinand chuckled as he looked up from his work. He couldn’t help but smirk as Hubert looked away from him. "I could say the same,” he said.

"What do you mean?"

Ferdinand froze. Oh, he knew exactly why. He, over the course of their sessions, had come to regard this scrawny, angular, goth before him as incredibly attractive. He wasn’t sure what it was. His hair obscuring part of his face, his height, his demeanor or the way his small chuckles and smiles felt absolutely earned. Perhaps a combination of all of it. The more they got to know each other, the easier it was to earn those smiles. The easier it was to get Hubert to look at him. Still, he couldn’t leave Hubert without an answer and so he rolled his eyes. "Well for me, having you in on Valentine’s Day means I can decline those couples coming in wanting clipart hearts with each other's names on them or what have you. Easy money, but I would rather not deal with the aftermath. Surest path to a break up is to get your partner's name tattooed. So I am glad you were available.” He cleared his throat and looked back down to the tattoo. Only the tip of the dagger was left. “I expected you to have a date."

"On Valentine's Day?" Hubert scoffed. "Please, it's the worst day for a date. Everywhere is busy, crowded, hawking overpriced ‘specials’ in the name of some commercialized form of affection. Why would anyone even bother?"

Ferdinand shrugged. "Someone might find it romantic." He tried to think of his last Valentine’s Day date. It had been a while. They weren’t fans of Valentine’s either. He remembered a heart shaped pepperoni pizza from the place that made you take the pizza home to cook it. It was cute, but not exactly a declaration of love. Ferdinand didn’t even like cheese.

"Besides, I'm single," Hubert finished.

Ferdinand looked back up quickly. Single? How was that possible? "You are?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, looking back to Ferdinand.

"Why _would_ you be?" He paused as he realized what he’d just said, feeling his cheeks burn hot. "I...I'm sorry,” he stammered “That came out wrong. I just thought that friend of yours you keep mentioning… Ms. Hresvelg? It seemed you had a connection from what you describe of her."

"Ew, no," Hubert responded, sticking his tongue out in disgust. "She's practically my sister."

"Well what about that other friend?” he pleaded. “The one who you mentioned liked the flowers I designed? She has good taste, clearly. She at least got you to warm up to the idea."

Hubert groaned. "Why are you bound and determined to pair me up with people you don't even know?"

"I'm a romantic at heart. Forgive me," he said, returning to his work. “You speak of them with such fondness, I thought perhaps there was more. I am sorry to assume.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. You wouldn’t be the first.” Hubert sighed. “The moment I make friends there are people eager to pair us up. I’m used to it, annoying as it is.”

“Do you not have many friends?” he asked, confused. The Hubert he’d gotten to know projected a rough exterior, certainly, but inside he was caring and kind, despite a cutting wit and a wicked sense of humor. That he claimed to not have many friends was surprising. Ferdinand would do anything to consider a man like him to be a friend.

He shook his head. “No. I’m unpleasant to be around most of the time.”

“That’s not true at all,” Ferdinand said with a gentle smile, as he met Hubert’s eyes. “I find you very pleasant to be around.”

Hubert blushed. “Oh…th…thank you.” They stayed staring at each other in the lamplight of Ferdinand’s work station. For all of Hubert’s dark tones and harsh appearance, he was starting to look to Ferdinand as if he always belonged there. “So, what about you?” Hubert asked, using the pause in Ferdinand’s work to readjust his sitting position in the chair. “If I had to answer for myself, it’s only fair.”

“Me?” Ferdinand shook his head. “There is not much to say. I have never been good at making friends either. I know I’m a bit much.” He frowned and looked down at the nearly completed tattoo. He remembered the disapproving look on his father’s face any time he expressed interest in anything aside from continuing his family’s work. How he was told tattoos were not real art anyway and that he was wasting his time and breath trying to explain himself. He recalled how alone he felt when he left home, when he used the last of his savings to open this studio. His heart ached as he recalled every attempt to send his family cards with art he’d drawn, newspaper clippings and printed out yelp reviews to show them he was all right, he was doing well for himself and never receiving a reply. It almost made him regret how hard he’d worked to build himself up from nothing. It had left him no time at all to consider making friends. The positive reviews, the blog interviews, that wasn’t companionship. That was putting on a face for business. And then there was the disaster of a dating attempt he’d recalled earlier. He couldn’t even remember the guy’s name. “Most of my socialization is done here. Captive audience, you know. My last boyfriend really only liked that I’m pretty. And was trying to get free ink.”

“Sounds like an asshole,” Hubert said. “You don’t deserve that.”

Ferdinand laughed. That was the most supportive thing anyone had told him in a long time. “Yeah.” Ferdinand kept quiet and focused on the last bits of ink. As he was about to do one final bit of shading, he stopped. This was it. The conclusion of Hubert’s sleeve. After this there were no more appointments. After this there would be no more Hubert. "I don't want to finish it," he muttered to himself, tentatively pulling away.

"What?” Hubert sat up straight as if in a panic. “Don't tell me you fucked it up this late."

Ferdinand shook his head and looked to meet Hubert's eyes. "No. Of course not. It's stunning. You can see that for yourself. The issue is...if I finish, you leave. And then I do not get to see you anymore."

Hubert scoffed. "That’s awfully sentimental of you. Do you get like this with all of your clients, or am I just lucky?"

"Oh, shut up. "

"What? It's true. For what it’s worth, I am going to miss this too. Your studio is peaceful and I enjoy being here," he said calmly as he looked around his surroundings. "I've gotten used to it, at least. It's normally not my aesthetic, but the more I look at it, the more appealing it is. I think I see something new on the wall every time. It's...it's nice. You're...nice."

Ferdinand nodded. "I liked getting to know you too. I liked that you appreciated my work so much. I liked that you trust me with such a detailed piece and I..." he shook his head. "It's so unprofessional. Forgive me."

"What is? Getting along with your client?"

"That is the problem, yes," he said, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "You are a client. Our relationship should be strictly business. I provide a service, you provide payment. In a perfect world, we both walk away satisfied with a job well done. But I would hate not seeing you again. I wish I could know you more...personally. I understand if that is off putting. I'm your tattoo artist. We don't know each other well enough and...” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ugh it sounds like I'm trying to entice you into getting more work done and that is not what-"

"Ferdinand."

"What?"

"I have another arm," he stated. "I also have my back, my chest, my legs...if having you cover me in ink was the only way I could see you, then I would.”

“Hubert…” he said as he couldn’t fight the small smile coming to his face.

“You took one look at me and you saw me. You knew me for three minutes and you made the most stunning, incredible art. So please don’t make me think that you expect me to leave and not come back.”

Ferdinand shook his head. “No! No, not at all. I want to spend _more_ time with you, if anything!”

“Good. The feeling’s mutual,” he said as he leaned forward and placed a light kiss on Ferdinand's cheek.

"Oh," Ferdinand said, his face feeling as if it were on fire.

Hubert winced as he leaned back. “Please don’t tell me I misread what you meant by ‘personally.’”

He shook his head as his smile grew. “Oh no. No, you did not misread me at all.”

"Good.” He sighed and sat back in the chair and returned his gaze to the wall, his focus on the cabinet filled with teacups. “Listen, I still think Valentine's is the worst day to go out, especially without a plan, but unless you consider finishing this tattoo a date, I wouldn't mind coffee. There is a place down the street..."

"Do they have tea?” Ferdinand interrupted. “I am not one for coffee."

"You don't have to drink coffee on a coffee date," he said flatly.

“No, I suppose you don’t, but still I…” he took a deep breath. “I would love to. Let me grab my jacket and…”

“Ferdinand?”

“Yes?”

“Finish the tattoo first!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone involved in this Flashbang, happy Valentine's Day!


End file.
